Unbearable Silence
by OnlyTheInevitable
Summary: How can she say she's fine when there's blood running down her face and her skin is practically translucent? Mulder just wants Scully to let him in. MSR. S4.


**Author's Notes: Hello everyone. I just had this idea and wanted to dabble with it. I know angst isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I loved this idea and I hope you do too!**

Their silences used to be comfortable, years of car rides filled with simple companionship, being content with just enjoying each other's company. Mulder missed that so much it physically hurt. Because, ever since seeing the x-ray that revealed the scariest thing he'd ever seen, their silences were filled with tension. She didn't talk to him much anymore, so the silences were frequent.

It wasn't for lack of conversation points. No, he could think of fifty things he wanted to ask her. "How are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? What did your doctor say?" Everytime he found the courage to speak up, she answered with nothing more than, "I'm fine." Two words he'd come to despise. She wasn't fine and he damn well knew it.

Scully was dying.

It was something he wanted to ignore, but something that was at the forefront of his mind every single day. When she smiled, when he caught a whiff of her perfume, when she contradicted his theories, he couldn't help but wonder if he would know when the last time each of those things would happen would be. Would he watch her leave that little basement office one day and see her the next on her deathbed in the hospital, or worse? While he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with her, he absolutely hated treating time with her as a morbid living wake. God, he just wanted her back. He missed the woman sitting right next to him. He knew any fear he was feeling was twenty times worse for her. He just wanted to make her feel better, that's all he wanted, to take away her pain. Instead, he felt like he was mourning the living.

He was pulled out of his downward spiral when he heard her cough. He turned his head slightly to look at her out of his peripheral and saw her hunched over, one hand gripping the dashboard as the coughs raked through her body. She sat up when they subsided and she pretended like nothing was wrong. His concern for her was hot on his tongue, but he said nothing. He just squirmed in the silence. While most of their silences were from not knowing what to say, this one was because he'd said too much. This morning was rough, to put it lightly.

He'd knocked on the adjoining door, he honestly had. When he didn't get a response, he figured she was still asleep and he was just going to wake her up, they had a six hour car ride ahead of them and they needed to be in D.C by two. He hadn't anticipated that she was fully awake and just hadn't heard his loud knocking. He _really_ hadn't anticipated the shock he'd get as soon as he opened the door.

Scully was completely naked, barring a pair of white cotton underwear. That would have been a surprise in and of itself if he wasn't so distracted by her condition. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing away from him. He could see every vertebrae in her spine. He knew the cancer was making her lose weight, her pantsuits didn't hug her curves the way they used to, but he didn't know it was this bad. She was maybe ten pounds away from looking emaciated. And she was so _pale._ It was like her flesh was a translucent road map, her veins weaving stark blue lines under her skin.

He stood in the doorway stunned to the spot, unable to move or say anything. His eyes glued to her form, trying to fully recognize that this was actually Scully in front of him. Then he heard her sniffle and he saw her shoulders shake a little. _She was crying._ Mulder's heart broke and he wanted nothing more than to rush across the room and pull her into his arms. Instead, he just stood there while his throat clenched and his eyes burned.

She sniffled again, but this time she shifted a little, her arm moving in front of her. " _Fuck_ ," she whispered under her breath. She stood up and turned around. That's when all hell broke loose. She still hadn't noticed him, but she moved to the table by the window, looking for something, and gave him a clear view of her side profile. He could count every one of her ribs, and he noticed how gaunt her face looked. That was the last observation he had before he saw the copious amount of blood pouring down her face and onto her chest. He gasped, and her eyes shot over like a deer in headlights. "Mulder! What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak at a full volume. Her arms shot up to her chest and she was covering her breasts with her forearms, letting the blood continue to flow out of her nose. She was glaring at him like she was trying to intimidate him into turning around, but her stature couldn't match it. She looked so tired. His eyes stung and he felt like he was choking. "Uh, um," he looked around and saw a box of tissues on the nightstand next to him. He rapidly grabbed a handful and walked the remaining two feet to stand in front of her.

It wasn't until he raised his hands to her face that he noticed they were shaking. He placed one hand on the side of her head and used the others to dab the tissues under her nose, cringing at the way they were immediately saturated. He was as gentle as he could possibly be as he wiped away the blood on her chin. He noticed then that her jaw was set and when he looked up he noticed her eyes were ablaze, like she was trying to keep every emotion in her body from showing. He couldn't even tell what she was feeling. She hid herself from him now.

"I-I'm sorry," he repeated. It was the only thing he knew how to say anymore. He was sorry for barging in on her in a vulnerable moment, he was sorry for invading her personal space, he was sorry this was happening to her, he was sorry he didn't know how to make this better, he was sorry she felt like she couldn't trust him anymore.

She grabbed the tissue from his hand and took a step back, moving her head away from his touch. "I'm fine," she snapped. He stood there in front of her on the verge of tears. She was holding a bloody tissue to her face, crusted blood turning black on her chest. She looked like a fragile china doll.

A sob escaped his lips against his will and he shouted, "Stop saying that!" Her eyes widened at his outburst, but he couldn't help it. "You are not fine! You have cancer, Scully. Please, just-," his voice was strained as he fought back tears, but she didn't want to hear it.

"Get out," she interrupted. Her voice was low and dangerous, a tone she reserved for perps. A tone he never thought she'd use on him.

"Scully, I'm-"

"I said get out," she shouted, removing the bloody tissue from her face to point towards the door.

As much as he wanted to stay there and beg her to talk to him, he wouldn't go against her wishes. It wasn't his place. Instead, he turned around and walked back into his room, getting one last fleeting glance at her livid form as he closed the door. He stood there for a moment and listened, hearing no signs of her from the other side of the door. He lowered his hand, and, as he did, his attention was caught by a stain on the sleeve of his shirt. It was red, it was big, and it was blood. Scully's blood. His partners blood. He fingered the stain lightly and felt the wetness touch his fingertips. He couldn't hold it anymore, and he didn't care if she heard him. He stood in his room and cried, and, in the moments in between sobs, he could hear similar sounds from the other room.

But, _of course,_ when they met at the car that morning, they said nothing. Not a goddamned word. Because every single time they got close to finally talking about it, she ran away, finding solace by herself as he did nothing but worry about her. They had been in the car for three hours now and the only time either of their voices made an appearance was during her coughing fits. The radio in this car didn't even work.

He wanted to be nothing but understanding and compassionate. He had been for the past two months since he found out. He gave her space, he let her distance herself, he bent over backwards to let her do whatever she may need, but he was sick of it. He just wanted her to fucking talk to him. She had to know how much she meant to him. He knew he wasn't just imaging it, their relationship was meaningful, and it deserved more than to be discarded like the past four years didn't even matter.

He saw more movement out of his peripheral, and he noticed it was a little more frantic than warranted in a small car with two hours left on the road. She grabbed her purse and he saw her trifle through it. By the way she tossed it away from her, she hadn't found what she needed. He fixed his gaze back on the road, not wanting to be caught staring at her when her voice broke the silence. "Mulder, pull over at the next gas station."

He turned over to her and saw she was facing the window. She wasn't discreet, and he didn't even need to see that window reflection of her clutching her nose to know what she was doing. It wasn't the kindest thing he'd ever done, but she wasn't exactly being kind to him. If she wanted out, she'd have to talk. "No."

She turned to face him, but he didn't turn to look at her, afraid seeing the blood leaking between her fingers would weaken his resolve. "Mulder, I'm not asking."

"I know you're not asking. That would require you actually speaking more than five words to me at once." He hated being petty, he knew it would just piss her off, but he didn't care at this point. He wanted her to scream at him, to get mad at him, because then at least he'd know she felt _something_ about him instead of callous indifference.

"Mulder, I don't want to get blood on the seats. There's a Seven Eleven in a mile, pullover." She ignored what he said, so he ignored what she said. She thought she'd won until he pulled into the fast lane to pass by the exit. "Mulder, what's your problem! I need to take care of my nosebleed."

"I thought you said you were fine." He mimicked her catchphrase back to her.

"Of course I'm not fine!' He couldn't remember the last time Scully screamed at him. He didn't even know if she ever had before, and he felt it reverberate in his bone. She sounded exhausted. "I'm _dying_ , Mulder. What don't you understand about that?"

Hearing her admit it like that was like a blow to the gut. It felt like all his breath left his lungs and it was a struggle to get words out. "I don't understand why you won't talk to me." His voice was wavering slightly, but he didn't care. It was hard to care when the one good thing in your life was fading away.

"I don't understand what you want me to say? Do you want to hear about how I can't keep food down without throwing up? That my nosebleeds are daily now? That I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror?" her voice started to crack and he looked over to see tears welling up in her eyes. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Each statement made him want to pull her into his arms and never let go. His heart felt heavier than ever and each word was a dagger to his heart. "Yes, because that means you aren't just suffering alone," he replied.

"But that's what I want!" she yelled. His body froze at her words as he tried to decipher her meaning. _There's no way she could mean that._

"W-what?" he asked. A car tried to pass him and honked as he swerved a little bit, the sound of the horn making them both jump. Mulder realized he was too emotional to drive right now and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, putting the car into park. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an old handkerchief, handing it to Scully morosely. They were going to talk. She couldn't run away this time.

She took the offered fabric begrudgingly, wiping her chin before pressing it to her nose to stop the flow. He just stared at her the whole time, watching her ignore him. "Are you telling me you want to die alone?" The question sounded harsh, and the way her face scrunched up almost made him regret even asking it. Almost. He needed to know.

She was quiet for a moment and he was certain she was going to give him the silent treatment until he gave up and started driving again. Of course, Scully never did what he expected her to. She spoke up in a quiet voice, choked by emotion, "Of course I don't."

He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. To brush her hair behind her ear so he could see her face more, to hold her shoulder so he could stop the trembling, but he kept his hands in his lap. His eyes were the the only thing to graze her. "Scully, I know you have so many people that care about you. I know I'm being selfish, but-" They were finally talking so he didn't want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing. "-I, I thought we were close. I mean, I consider you the most important person in my life, I understand if that's not reciprocated, but, I feel like you hate me." She finally looked at him, her brows furrowed in concern and worry, she was shaking her head but he continued anyway. "I feel like it's my fault this happened, and I understand if you blame me, but I just want to help." That's all he could say because he lost the ability to talk, his throat was clenching around the words to much and his chin was quivering too much to continue.

Some tears escaped when she granted him the best gift in the world. She touched the side of his face and stroked the skin of his cheek with her thumb, motioning for him to look back to her, but he didn't think he could handle it. "No, no, Mulder, please don't say stuff like that. This isn't your fault, and I don't want you to blame yourself or think for a second that I do." She nudged his cheek with her hand, implying she wasn't going to continue until he looked at her. He followed her motion and saw her nosebleed had stopped, the only remnants being some dried blood at the edge of her nostrils. "Mulder," her voice sounded like a plea, "I could _never_ hate you. You mean the world to me. I just, I couldn't put you through this."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do this alone," he murmured, placing his hand on the backside of hers, leaning into her touch.

"What's the other option? Letting you stand by my side and watch me slowly die?" she asked. He was about to give her words of reassurance that she'd dissuade with medical jargon but were the only thing getting him through the day, but she saw it coming a mile away and interrupted him before he could start. "Mulder," she whispered like she was chastising a child, "That's how it's going to end. There's no way around it."

He let it slide even though the words hung like poison in the air, "I've told you before, I'm your partner, but more importantly, your friend. I want to be by your side forever and always." He was getting sappy right now, but he was currently sobbing in front of her, so he figured he'd be forgiven.

Her chin started quivering and she looked away for a second, trying to find something to regain her resolve, looking back at him when she couldn't. "I don't want to put you through that. I want you to remember me as your skeptical, fearless partner. Not a fragile woman dying of cancer." Then it all made sense. She was under the assumption witnessing it first hand would be the worst case scenario. She was trying to distance herself so her death would be less painful for him. For such a brilliant woman, that was the most foolish plan he'd ever heard.

"Scully, you're the strongest woman I've ever met. Before the cancer and after the cancer. Do you know how much the thought of not being by your side hurts me? My worry for you consumes my every waking thought because I have no idea what's going on. Scully, please don't shut me out." he begged.

"I've missed you," she whispered, a single tear escaping down her face and rolling down the soft skin of her cheek.

"I'm right here. I always will be." It was a promise he knew he'd never have any issue backing up. A fact as true as the sky was blue.

She leaned closer and pressed a sweet kiss to his jaw, his cheek, and then his forehead, letting the last one linger for a moment as he sat there and committed the feeling of her lips to memory. After a moment she leaned back in her seat with embarrassed laughter, wiping her face free from the evidence of her catharsis as he did the same. "Wow, we're a mess," she laughed.

"I'd have it no other way," he chuckled back, starting the car and pulling onto the road, feeling like a weight had been lifted and he could finally breathe. He turned to her, enjoying feeling like he could finally talk to her once again, "Do you still need me to stop at a gas station?"

She shook her head and folded the handkerchief in her lap. "No, no, it stopped. Thank you though. I'm sorry about this though, it's probably stained," she apologized, lifting the saturated fabric.

"Don't apologize, that was rude of me not to stop, it's the least I could do." She smiled at his response and snuggled back in her seat. He decided to ask, to see where they were. "So how are you?"

She started to answer immediately out of default, "I'm fi-," but she stopped herself. "Aside from the nosebleeds, this has been an okay day. I kept a protein bar down this morning and only my head hurts. My doctor told me last week-"

A grin erupted on his face as she continued to tell him about how she was. How she _really_ was. It was the start of a new chapter, one that he was more than thrilled to embark on. She talked to him more. She asked him for help. She sought comfort in him. They were in this together, a couple battling a storm.

He knew they could get through this.

They had to.

 **Hope you enjoyed! This was a conversation I wished we had really, really seen during the cancer arc because things got tense and I think this was partly why. Also, if you're following "Partner's with Benefits," have no fear. I'm still working on it, I just got really inspired with this. Let me know how you felt, feedback makes my day! Thanks for your time - Nicole (Twitter/Tumblr: gaycrouton)**


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